


The Majestic Week of Entrapta

by KriegsaffeNo9



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Based on a song, Crossover, Dreams, Drinking, Entrapta Week, F/F, Gen, Kissing, Mash-up, Nightmares, Poetry, Recreational Drug Use, Vampire Hordak Headcanon, tiny food
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KriegsaffeNo9/pseuds/KriegsaffeNo9
Summary: Wherein Entrapta gets her very own week!DAY 1: Just wakin' up in the mornin', gotta thank 'Dak.  Entrapta doesn't know, but today seems to not be wack. (Friendship)DAY 2: When everything seems to have gone wrong, the scientific method's got your back. (Experiment)DAY 3: Horde Prime help us all, Entrapta's trying some poetry.  (Masks)DAY 4: While taking a break from portal-craft, Hordak brings up something about Entrapta that bugs him. (Imperfection)DAY 5: Happy birthday, Entrapta!DAY 6: Motorball champion Mermista has a visitor in the night.
Relationships: Catra & Entrapta & Scorpia (She-Ra), Entrapta & Hordak (She-Ra), Mermista/Perfuma (She-Ra)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 17





	1. It Was A Good Day

_"Thanks, mommy!"_

\-- [Ice Cube](http://www.overcompensating.com/oc/index.php?comic=952)

* * *

"Hi, Catra!" Entrapta said, stealing Catra from the fitful grip of sleep.

"WHAT," Catra said, claws deployed, sitting up fast enough that she whacked her forehead on one of the beams for the top bunk. As she did often. Good thing she now slept with her helmet-mask-thing on.

"I'm not totally sure why," Entrapta said, swinging from the top bunk to a seat on Catra's bed, "but I'm feeling pretty good about today! The ceaseless baying of Zone-borne abominations has temporarily abated, there's comparatively little low-hanging air pollutant clouds--and Scorpia made breakfast! And she didn't use more than a couple of dire boars to make it!"

"Entrapta," Catra said, voice even, "next time, please lead with 'Scorpia made several pigs for breakfast.'" She retracted her claws, rolled out of bed, and shuffled to the exit.

Entrapta fetched her recorder. "Catra has awoken. Everything is in readiness... _for a fun day of friendship activities_!"

* * *

In light of the absence of smog, and with only a little insistence from Easy, the team requisitioned a sky sled to really enjoy that Fright Zone air, filled with the fresh scent of copper and adrenaline. Catra had wanted three separate sleds, but Entrapta hadn't learned to drive yet, and Scorpia was Scorpia, so Catra begrudgingly attached a passenger block and took the driver's seat. With only a little complaining, Scorpia had sat behind her, resting her massive pedipalps on Catra's shoulders; and of course Entrapta took the very back, letting Lefty and Righty billow in the wind as Catra gunned it through the gray skies over the Fright Zone.

"Whacha wanna do, Catra?" Scorpia said. "And if you don't have any ideas, then I might--"

Catra held up one finger. Not a middle one, just to be clear. "You know, maybe it's the breakfast talking, but I actually have a pretty damn good idea. We're pretty good at ullamaliztli, right?"

"Famously!" Scorpia said. "We got hips that just don't quit!"

"Well, it so happens--" With her non-pointing hand, Catra whipped out her Horde communicator, a "new text message" alert blinking on its screen. "Sahak just sent out an APB accepting all challengers to a Great Triad... gambling not only allowed, not only encouraged, but, and I quote, 'is pretty much why we're doing it.'"

Scorpia's eyes went starry. "Wait a minute..."

"We're all good at ullamaliztli. Entrapta can't be beat at chessboxing--"

"--on account of the four limbs!" Entrapta said, waving her arms and ponytails.

"--and you may recall I'm completely undefeated at muggins," Catra said. "So how's about we clean house and make those Snake Men regret slithering out of their holes?"

"Yeah!" Entrapta said.

"What she said!" Scorpia said.

Catra revved the sky sled; white-hot plasma exhaust billowed behind them. "Then let's go clean some _fucking_ house!" she said, and rocketed towards the Snake Man warrens.

* * *

Four hours later, Scorpia kicked in the door to the executive ablution suite. "Hello, world!" she said, carrying Catra and Entrapta in only slightly against their will, "We've just won a ton of shower credits and we're spending two hundred of them right now on your Deluxe Suite! Because we're sweaty and covered in snake blood and our wrists hurt from all the dominoes we just laid out!"

"It true," Entrapta said.

"Yeah," Catra grumbled.

The plain gray walls and ceiling of the executive shower turned into a carnival of delicate mechanical workings as panels folded away to reveal elaborate personalized ablution machinery. Catra ceased her squirming at the sight of a many-armed, sponge-laden drone with low-pressure shower nozzles; Entrapta squealed in delight at a no-effort body-washer with attached hair washing drone. And Scorpia nodded approvingly at an ultra-high-pressure multi-head apoca-shower with massage jets.

And so the very best friends took a best-friend bath together.

"Man," Scorpia shouted over the roar of the shower jets that blasted crud out of every crevice and nook of her chitin plates, "I can't believe you killed that guy that hard with just your thumbs, Catra!"

"What can I say," Catra purred as the spongebot worked out a knot in her lower back, "I wanted them to know, intimately, that they shouldn't have flown the oriflamme just 'cause they had a two-point lead on us. And now there are five fewer Snake People in Etheria and thirty thousand more Hordemarks in our bank."

"I'm just happy they had boxing gloves in my hair's size," Entrapta said. The hair washer drone had to deploy a hot tub just to accommodate Entrapta's titanic hair-load, which was absolutely fine by Entrapta. "Aaah, man... I'm really breathing well right now. Is everyone else breathing well? Is it the moisture or the heat?"

"Mmm... both," Catra said, stretching out as the sponge bot ran a foaming roller down her back. Her tail whipped back and forth languidly.

"Say!" Scorpia said, turning down the pressure a smidge with her tail, "How's about we head back to Rogelio's place?"

"You mean the M-block barracks?" Catra said. "And more to the point, why?"

"Be-cause!" Scorpia said, pointing her tail at the wireless communicator display screen popping out of the wall, "They're airing the games we just played, they don't know what happened during it, they're taking bets, and somehow Kyle found a crate of weed smuggled in from Plumeria!"

"Wait," Catra said, looking up. "Did you say weed, and Kyle has it, so we can take it without problems?"

"Oh man," Entrapta said, "I knew it was a good idea for us all to wear masks!"

"Yes, Entrapta," Catra said, smiling at her with no reservations or catches, "that was the best idea. Tell them we're on our way after this bitchin' shower and to not ask any Snake Person what happened because they're literally cold-blooded liars."

"Can do," Scorpia said, tapping at the giant touch screen gently so as to not break it. She had no luck with her pedipalps, and so switched to her nose instead.

The hair washing robot tilted its bulk over Entrapta's head. "Hello," it said. "Would you like a Salineas Libre?"

"Would I!" Entrapta said, opening her mouth.

The robot opened its own mouth and sprayed the highball directly into Entrapta's mouth. Just how she liked it.

* * *

Four more hours later, the adventure had somehow wound up back at the bunkroom.

"It's ironic," Catra said, leaning a little too hard against the wall to be casual, "we had the brew, they had a chronic inability to underestimate our ability to kick their ass if they made a fuss."

"Whee!" Entrapta said, rolling around in their new pile of Hordemarks large enough to sleep in. "They're pointy but fun!"

"...could... could you repeat that?" Scorpia said, breathing out a cloud of thick weedsmoke. "This is way too loud."

"I said," Entrapta said, hopping up, "today was a good day, 'cause I got to spend it with my best friends in the whole world."

Catra hiccuped. "What... what wazzat?"

"Catra," Scorpia said, "Entrapta called us her best friends." She stumbled over to Catra. "Can you... do you know how important that is?!"

"It is," Catra said. "Entrapta, you're so... you're so nice. If I'm your best friend, that means... that means I me-e-e-an so much to you..."

Entrapta blushed. "Well, you can be prickly sometimes, but... that's just how cats are, right?"

"You get a pass," Catra said. "Come on, Scorpia. Pick me up and carry me to her because I don't trust my legs right now."

"On account of being drunk," Scorpia said, picking her up. She was as limp as a wet rag. "You probably shouldn't have driven us back, come to think of it."

"Shuddup," Catra said.

And soon they were all hugging in the Hordemarks. Catra was squishy and hot, like a hot water bottle. Scorpia was warm and firm and a little pebbly on her armor parts, like a microwaved basketball, if Entrapta knew what a basketball was, which she didn't, but please bear with me, for English is a limited language. But both were champion huggers, and with all four grasping limbs Entrapta was an amazing hugger herself.

"Thank you, guys," Entrapta said. "It's been a little hard lately, you know?"

"Fuck, do we know," Catra groaned.

"But hey," Scorpia said. "Just 'cause things are rough now doesn't mean they'll be rough forever, right?"

"Right," Entrapta said. She glanced between her two best friends. "Hey. Is it alright if I'm honest about somethin'?"

"Sure," Scorpia said.

"Whatever," Catra said, without malice. "What are we gonna do, be mad at you?"

"Well..." Entrapta said. "A while ago... I had this really bad nightmare. I dreamed I never met anybody and I just lived alone with a bunch of robots. And I think I was really mad at you, Catra. Like, not just mad, but sad, too, and I had a really good reason, but it still kinda hurt that you weren't there. And..." She bit her lip. "And it was supposed to be perfect. But it wasn't. But..."

Her friends looked at her, Scorpia nodding along.

"I... I guess I just wanna know... would your lives have been better without me in it?"

Scorpia gasped. "What?! No! I love you, Easy E. You make my life better every day you're in it. I missed you."

"Hey," Catra said. "I've done... some pretty... messed up stuff... but... you never deserved... any of it. Right? Okay. I just get grumpy sometimes."

Entrapta felt a faint disconnect. She knew that feeling. She didn't have much time. And so she said:

"Can we kiss?"

"Sure," Scorpia said.

"Obviously," Catra said.

They did. And it was good.

And then she woke up--

* * *

\--to a sky ablaze with countless points of light and heavy with the spindle shadows of an invading void-borne army.

She lifted her head. Her new team of friends had taken shelter in a cave not far from where Adora had emerged, wounded but clinging to desperate, undimmed hope; going to one place or the other felt too dangerous, as if the sight of them would provoke that cosmic army which hung still and waiting overhead.

Some were asleep. Adora was deeper within the cave; she could hear, faintly, Adora and Bow discussing something. At the mouth of the cave, sitting cross-legged and looking up at the newfound stars, was Scorpia.

Entrapta crept up on her ponytails and sat by her. "Hello," she said.

"Hey," Scorpia said, giving her a very small, very uncertain smile. "Today's had a lot of ups and downs, hasn't it?"

"Yeah..." Entrapta said. "Got saved, almost didn't get saved... everything kinda started to blow up a little bit, then it didn't... then the sky changed... then all those ships showed up... but I just had one of those 'fly' dreams. So that was nice."

"That's good!" Scorpia said. "What was it about?"

"A good day," Entrapta said.

"That's good," Scorpia said. She lifted her arm, hesitantly angling it around Entrapta's shoulders. Entrapta closed the hug-gap with her ponytail. "I missed you a lot, Easy."

Entrapta rest her head on Scorpia's chest. "Well. That part of my dream came true."

"That I missed you?"

"That you're my best friend."

Scorpia squeezed her tight. "That one's always been true."

Entrapta sniffled.

Scorpia looked up at the spindle-ships. She started to speak, then faltered. She sighed, and renewed the vigor in her hug. "At least nobody I knew got killed in the Fright Zone today..."

"Today was kind of an alright day, sort of," Entrapta said.

"...no, it really wasn't."

"Yeah..." Entrapta said.


	2. Light The Inside

_Light your way to me._

\--Red, "[The Spine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41tIUr_ex3g)"

* * *

Experiment 1: (heavily redacted)

* * *

Experiment 2: Are these tall, thin, pointed structures antennae? If so, can they send or do they just receive?

Results: No radio equipment found. Postpone experiment. Had "wiggly feeling" near the towers. But isn't that supposed to be a psychosomatic response to presumed interference by wireless signals? Oftentimes the towers in question weren't even activated. Would be pretty great if I had my books with me to confirm. Either way: avoid towers for the time being.

* * *

Experiment 3: Will this creature bite me?

Results: Yes. They are very glad to do very deep bites.

* * *

Experiment 4: Is this person I found alive and sensate?

Results: Their eyes followed my hands and ponytails. They didn't seem to be too unhappy to be part of the wall. Unfortunately they don't appear to be a friend. They said some very sad things that I won't record here. (Looking at you Experiment 1.) They are definitely alive and they are definitely sensate but they are not A Friend.

* * *

Experiment 5: Is this toolbox functional?

Results: Hammer hammers. Screw would probably fit into most screw holes. If Scorpia were here she'd giggle and say something about how that sounded funny. Catra would (redacted) be (redacted) forget I said anything about Catra. Note for later. In fact:

Note For Later: Try not to think about Catra.

* * *

Experiment 2-A: Make a radio.

Results: Radio made! It works! Oh I wish it didn't though!

Note For Later: Radio signals not to be trusted on this island.

Also Note: Must now divide water into "drinking water," "hygeine water," and "blood-cleaning water."

Also Note: Hordak likes blood. Would he like this bloody water? Or would there be too much water and not enough blood?

* * *

Experiment For Later (tent. number 99): Would Hordak like watery blood?

Materials: I have seen him drink blood. He doesn't like soups (little or big). Haven't seen him drink water. Preferred atmosphere is high in argon--but he doesn't need to breathe. Just to help preserve his undead body?

Possibility 99-1: Gastronomic hypothesis. He could drink water but he wouldn't like it since water is a significant part of blood (90% I think?) but it would be like drinking a phosphate that was entirely carbonated water and no sugar or flavor (i.e. pointless). Watery blood = less of the good stuff = watered-down phosphate = pointless. Not impossible. But he wouldn't like it.

Possibility 99-2: Metabolic hypothesis. His biology requires straining oxygen and water out of blood and it's uncomfortable or impossible to just process water and oxygen on their own. E.g. gills on fish, book lungs for insects don't work at different sizes... hrrm. Counter: He doesn't mind breathing oxygen, he just doesn't prefer it. Blood oxygen probably couldn't sustain an organism's oxygen needs even if they only needed a little. Either way: more water would be more problems.

Interruption: Oh hey, there's a guy here who isn't part of the walls or floors! Looks like he's a sorcerer. I'm not going to mess with him. I bet he means well.

Interruption 2: Some of his rations are very tiny and I am very hungry. I have found out that the beetles here are edible when cooked.

Gastronomic Hypothesis: I can eat a tiny beetle if it's cooked but I won't like it. But I do like it better than if it was a bigger beetle.

Interruption 3: I don't think Mr. Sorcerer is a fan of me stealing his tiny rations. Maybe I should be careful around him. Or perhaps set up a tiny-ration-sharing treaty. Ceasefire? Treaty sounds better. I should experiment with ways to communicate with him that won't make him more inclined towards zapping me.

* * *

Experiment 6: Is there a place here I can sleep where it's decently safe? Starting with this cave.

Results: Large masked worms. Not this cave.

* * *

Experiment 7: Oh hey, a giant robot and it's only partially integrated into the walls! Prior experiments have shown this toolbox to be a working toolbox. Warnings on the giant robot's engine casing imply that its fuel is radioactive; depending on how the robot processes fuel, it may either function indefinitely or be already depleted. I propose that it is functional and I can sleep in it when it's doing its thing. Also, if it does work, decide the robot's gender and give them a name.

Results: Wait.

Side Note: If I wanted to call all these things an "experiment" and really mean it, I'd log all the variables and materials more thoroughly. And have a control. This is just a to-do list.

But it makes me feel better to think about them as experiments.

Hypothesis: everything is horrible and anything that makes me feel better is to be enjoyed as hard as it can be enjoyed regardless of frivolty.

Results: Yes. I'm calling these "experiments."

Also, the robot works!

Experiment Whatever: I'm going to take a nap inside the robot. After disabling the radio, of course. Materials Used: One (1) hammer. Radio not making the noise now. Sleep is possible. Sleeping now. Thank you.

Results: I have successfully slept! The onboard chronometer is completely busted, and there is no apparent way to keep track of the progress of night and day in the sky, so: note to self, start investigating tidal functions at the edge of Beast Island to see if they're consistent enough to use as a method of reckoning the passage of time.

I had a dream about Hordak. I don't know if it was a dream about Real Hordak or the Other-World Dream Hordak I never met but knew he had to exist, just that he didn't want anything to do with me--

Oh, dang it.

Redact that later.

...later.

So in the dream Hordak was maybe the real Hordak or maybe the Hordak from that time when the world was completely different and I didn't have him or Scorpia or Catra or anyone else in my life. And he was mad. He was mad all the time, and he was hurting himself. He took off his arm and he replaced it with the solar prominence lance we designed that one time.

Hordak named that gun, by the way. He told me that "the sun" was an ancient enemy of the alukah. He also called it the "daystar" or "starheart," which is weird, because phosgene illusions aren't really that dangerous in and of themselves, but apparently the "sun" is pretty mean to blood-drinking undead. Anyway, that's why he called it "solar prominence" instead of my suggested name ("fusion filament"), and from one scientist to the other, that's a way cooler name than mine.

This kind of got away from me. How long has it been since the last time I slept?

Anyway. He was using it to burn and cut everything around him, and I tried to ask him why he was doing it and he turned the gun on me and, well, that was it for me in the dream. But I didn't wake up. I sort of hovered around in place where my body was before he evaporated it with a supergun. He looked at where I was and he ripped his gun-arm off and he curled up on the ground and cried and I guess I was dead and that was the afterlife for me, watching Hordak completely lose it over what he did to me.

I don't have my dream dictionary, either, but... my memory gets a little fuzzy around the time I got tasered, but I'm pretty sure it was Catra who put me here, on account of her being closest to the taser before it was used on me and she didn't want me to tell Hordak about the portal experiment being too hazardous to carry out.

So... shouldn't I have dreamed about Catra?

Why did I dream about Hordak? He didn't hurt me and put me here.

I mean... he didn't stop me from going...

He... well, he must've had his reasons...

It was... it must've gotten busy. With the portal, and the other world, and the other world going away, and all that... stuff. Maybe he didn't know until it was too late.

Yeah.

That has to be it.

He wouldn't do this to me on purpose.

He's a nice...

He's...

He's my friend.

He's one of my best friends.

I don't have a lot of friends, you know. They're all my best friends.

Maybe I should go back to sleep. The robot's doing just fine, climbing around, avoiding the worms, shooting the pwcas, et cetera. It's been a busy... period of time, whatever it is.

Yeah.

Let's sleep on it.

More experiments tomorrow.


	3. We Never Said The Word

[We never said the word](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvPUTyqlCT4)  
But I think we both thought about it  
Like a whole lot

The word is  
"mask."

When I was a kid  
I think nine  
Maybe ten--

(It was a very strange time in my life  
I hope you understand  
I didn't keep a journal back then  
I decided one day  
When I forgot what month it was  
And I had to ask three people to find out what day it was  
And it turned out I missed my birthday  
I decided that maybe  
If I kept track of time  
I wouldn't forget the time so dang much)

\--anyway--  
When I was nine or maybe ten  
There was this nice lady  
She came from a faraway place  
(What kingdom was it?  
Again, sorry, I forgot)  
to do official princess business.  
I was nine or maybe ten  
And my parents weren't around  
(Not the ones who had me, anyway)  
So it came down to me  
To talk shop and make deals and draw lines on maps

And I kinda screwed up  
Like really bad  
Because I didn't put on a mask.

It was my baker who set me straight on that.  
She said:  
"Entrapta, you're brilliant,  
"But you are difficult.  
"It's not your fault;  
"It's just how the world came to be.  
"Here:  
"Let me teach you a trick."

It was actually a lot of tricks  
And I didn't really get them  
Not 'til I was 16.  
(Definitely 16.  
Here:

"Day 203 of my 16th year alive on Etheria: today I found out what 'the mask' is. I 'dialed it down,' like she said, and I looked out for those kinds of expressions like she said I should look out for, and things went pretty okay!  
"Boy oh boy was it boring, though. Hope I don't have to do it again."

The mask  
(you see)  
was pretending to be  
Less difficult.

I'm not very good at it,  
even with ten more years of practice,  
but it helps a bit.

(Maybe I should've tried harder around Perfuma.)

What's that?

No, not even once.

I may be difficult  
But that's just 'cause  
I'm different.  
And what makes me different  
is what makes me  
pretty dang cool  
(if I may say so myself  
(and I do).

But  
sometimes  
to keep things moving  
it helps to have  
a mask.

Save the good stuff  
for someone who cares,  
you know?

When we were friends,  
we never said the word  
"mask"  
but you had one on too.  
So tight  
it must've felt  
just like your face.

Today,  
after a lot of stuff happened,  
Bow told me about  
Salineas.  
And that you put on  
the prominence lance  
and used it  
on people.

And

I'm trying to remember  
that your mask is on  
really  
really  
tight.

I don't know if you'll ever hear this.  
I don't know if I won't just erase it when I'm done.  
But,  
Hordak,  
I want you to know,  
When it was you and me and the portal

I never had to put on a mask.


	4. Just Wanna Fly

_Dance a little, stranger_

_Show me where you've been_

\--Sugar Ray, "[Fly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUtnwcv-quE)"

* * *

The portal device hummed to life.

"Initiating mirror matter linkage," Hordak said. "I need a number for this variable, Entrapta."

"How 'bout six?" Entrapta said. "I'm in a 'six' kind of mood."

"Six is just fine," Hordak said, typing in the solution on his console. "Matter located. Entanglement test engaged... mirror matter is not tripping Mara-noise. Entangling. ... Entanglement established. Portal injection is clear..."

"Dark fluid injecting!" Entrapta said, yanking on four different switches with all four manipulators. The test portal began to take shape. "Fluid established! Initiating cooling and heating waves! ... All clear!" Entrapta clapped. "Test potal holding steady at zero! Heating layers are holding up to our mathematical models! Hot dark matter tunnel established!"

"Excellent," Hordak said. A smile crept onto his face. "Begin test program."

Entrapta sounded out the assorted boops and beeps of her console as her hands and hair danced along the buttons and knobs. The test portal rotated in space-time, going from a yonic aperture to a Clifford torus.

"Wow," Entrapta said. "We're doing it. We're really doing it..."

Hordak nodded. "What is next?"

"Well," Entrapta said, "if the math is right, the Dirac spinors will need sentient minds observing them for signs of vector shearing on account of..."

"...the observer effect," Hordak said. "Damnation."

"Yeah, undead have a hard time with that, don't they," Entrapta said. "So I guess that means I'm gonna be looking at this for-r-r-r..." Entrapta checked her pad. "Ninety-eight hours."

"How about this," Hordak said. "I'll put one of Modulok's heads on the task of observing the test portal, and we shall rest a moment and nutriate."

"Hella!" Entrapta said. "Wait, quick question. How long's our lunch break gonna be?"

"As long as we want," Hordak said. "Because I'm God."

* * *

Modulok, the toadying creep, had no problem putting one of his heads and arms to the task of observing the portal test. In the meantime, Entrapta and Hordak retreated to a small room adjacent to the portal chamber to take their meal.

Today, Entrapta had a variety of toast-point cucumber and watercress sandwiches with tiny olives and trial-sized chutneys. Hordak had, as usual, a large opaque bag of liquid. When he sat down to lunch alongside Entrapta, he removed the bag from a warming box full of warm, steamy water. He attached a length of tubing to the bag; the tube ended in a drum capped with taut white membranes. He bit down on the membranes and drank, squeezing the bag as he did. He was done well ahead of Entrapta; the drum's membranes healed up as he popped his fangs free, though the white had been stained a vivid red.

Entrapta watched this with a detached interest. What was it Catra told her once? "All us brothers gotta hunt."

So she continued eating without comment.

Hordak stared off into the distance--at an old warning poster, maybe, or at a square on the ground where a vitrine had been assembled who-knows-how-long ago. While Entrapta was finishing one of the sweet chutneys, Hordak spoke at last. "I am concerned about your fixation on food in miniature portions."

Entrapta looked up from her spoon. "Eh?"

"It concerns me. What is its purpose? Is it for gastronomic variety? Is it ritual? Why do you do it?"

Entrapta ate the chutney, tapped her spoon against its ramekin, and said, at long last, "I... actually don't know."

"I actually don't know," Imp said in her voice, slithering between her and Hordak. Hordak frowned and held out the empty bag o' blood; Imp snatched it up in his teeth and scampered off the bench, flapping his way just over the floor before latching on to a support pillar. He clamored up to the ceiling and tore open the bag with his teeth, licking away at the blood caked on the inner folds.

"Wow, he's rude," Entrapta said.

"Astute observation," Hordak said.

"Anyway," Entrapta said. "Like Imp said, I don't know. It never really... like, why even ask?"

Now it took Hordak a long moment to respond. "Because... it is mysterious to me," he said. "And ambiguity is not something I suffer lightly."

Entrapta scratched her chin with Lefty. "Huh. Well. I'm pretty good with ambiguity, myself. So I guess it never bothered me."

Hordak glanced away. "How fortunate."

"I suppose so!" Entrapta said, moving on to her next sandwich.

Several sandwiches in, a long-delayed gear finally clicked into place and rotated a thought to the forefront of her mind. "Oooooooh!" she said, "Right, right! Okay, let's think this through." She set aside the last of her lunch. She shifted her seating so her body blocked Hordak's view of the tiny food. "Alright. Let me think."

"After you," Hordak said, with a soft gesture. The servomotors in his power armor whined faintly.

"Right. So! Let's see." She rubbed her tmples with her ponytails and prodded her cheeks with her forefingers. "Thinking. Thinking. Psychology skills... completely undeveloped. Memory... famously spotty. Got... to... try..."

She let out a breath and spoke from the heart: "When I was a little kid, my parents were already out of the picture. Nobody ever told me what happened with that, so I guess it could've been tragic, or there was an explosion, or something. But I remember drinking from a bottle, like, a lot. And... hmmm..."

"And?" Hordak said.

"I..." She dropped all her limbs. "Don't know. I just straight up don't know. I don't remember any one big thing. I try and all I can summon up is that even when I was a kid I liked my food little and my phosphates well-carbonated." She met Hordak's gaze with only a little effort. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you feel bad."

She had never noticed it before, but Hordak's eyes were faintly dusty.

He broke the gaze first. "Well," he said. "Perhaps I'll perform an inquiry. We do have ninety-seven hours and thirty-six minutes to occupy."

"Yeah," Entrapta said. "Yeah. That sounds fun! Also, how exactly would we be performing this inquiry? Because I just realized you're gonna have to, like... ask me questions? I mean, that's what logically sounds right to me. What's the plan, man?"

"As it happens..." Hordak said.

* * *

Four hours later, Entrapta woke up screaming. She hardly noticed the whine and scream of health-monitoring equipment around her for the sheer volume and intensity of her shrieking. When she finally realized she was awake and safe at last she ripped off the monitoring nodes and threw them around the sleep experiment room in terror.

Safe behind a thick wall of blastproof glass, Hypnomagi Werra took a ginger sip of green tea. "Mm," she said. "Analysis of her dreams has been less fruitful than anticipated."

"What is it that you've found?" Hordak said, standing next to her.

"A plentiful cornucopia of nightmares and phobias. There's no plainly-stated answer here--but there is a shape in the interlocking shades of her fears. If I may trace the outline, Great Hordak, then--"

"No," Hordak said.

"...excuse me?" Werra said, perhaps a little snippier than propriety would allow.

"This has been an unnecessary endeavor. I regret it already." He went for the door.

Werra sipped her tea. Damn that little pet of his.

Entrapta was dabbing sweat from her brow with her sheets. She yelped in terror when Hordak entered the room. "Oh--oh praise Daoloth it's you," she said. "I tried to dream about tiny food and why I liked it, but then..."

"It's alright," Hordak said. "It was an unnecessary burden on my thoughts anyhow. I apologize for the discomfort."

"...thanks," Entrapta said. She almost hugged him, though it stalled out at patting his shoulder.

"I owe you some food measured out in small portions," Hordak said. "And perhaps a few premium shower credits."

"...yeah, that would be good," Entrapta said.

* * *

One shower-credit-hour later, Entrapta was helping herself to several tiny salads and soups. Hordak watched her eat, this time without reservation.

When she finished up, Hordak surmised his thoughts.

"It doesn't matter why you like your food in tiny portions," he said. "It only matters that it makes you happy."

"Yeah!" Entrapta said. "I mean--maybe 'yeah' is what I mean." She laughed. "Man, though. That was a helluva way to kill six hours. Six-ish."

"Not my finest moment," Hordak said, glancing away from her.

"But we had fun," Entrapta said. "Or at least I did. Most of the time I had fun."

"...I think... perhaps... I, too, may have... had fun." The words felt strange in his mouth, like rolling around a tiny skull on his tongue.

"That's great! Now come on, we've got eighty-something hours to kill, and it ain't gonna go kill itself."

It was decided: board games, next.

* * *

_We'll find out, I'm told._

_My mother, she told me so._

\--ibid.


	5. Birthday On Beast Island

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not having a song quote title for this one.
> 
> I mean, "Imperfection" didn't either, but that was a poem, so it has an excuse.

Entrapta wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "Ah, what a tasty snack. Hey, Scorpia. Did I ever tell you about my eighth birthday party?"

The drawing of Scorpia on the cave wall didn't say anything. Neither did the drawing of Hordak. Appletini, her new friend and giant robot, was too busy plugging up the front of the cave to say anything. Also, she was shooting at anything that came near with a nifty electrolaser Entrapta raided from the remains of a crashed ship of some description.

Entrapta picked a beetle shell fragment from between her teeth. She heard that in Plumeria roasted or fried dire spiders were served with their own fangs as toothpicks to clear out any urticating hairs that the cook missed; knowing this she regretted that all the beetles appeared to have venom-shooting apertures in their horns, because that would be a wonderful thing to have.

"Okay," Entrapta said. "It all started when my superpowers came in."

* * *

"Happy birthday, Princess Entrapta!" Entrapta's servants and a couple of robots said. Her new chief baker placed a platter of brightly-colored cupcakes in front of her. One of them had a little candle in the shape of an 8 gently nested into the pink icing.

Her baker, a strapping man nearly as wide as he was tall--and he was tall indeed--clapped his hands. "I do believe you will enjoy!" he said.

"Thank you!" Entrapta said, clapping back. "I bet I wi--"

At that moment her magical powers kicked in. A torrent of liquid flame spewed from her eyes, ending poorly for everyone and everything in a 60' cone in front of her.

* * *

"I know what you're thinking," Entrapta said. "The hair! Right?"

The Scorpia and Hordak paintings remained silent.

"Shut the hell up," the Catra painting in the corner said. "We heard this one before and we didn't care the first ten times."

"Please be quiet, Meanie Catra," Entrapta said.

Meanie Catra fell silent... for now.

"Right! So, anyway, there I was, with my fire vision..."

* * *

"Eeaaaaaagh!" eight-year-old Entrapta screamed. "If I close my eyes the fire builds up and it hurts a bunch and I see little spotties in front of my not-vision!"

"On the count of three!" one of the servants said. He held Entrapta over a bathtub full of ice water. "One... two... open your eyes on three, alright? I forgot to mention that before."

"Eyes on three! Got it!" Entrapta said.

"Good! One--"

Entrapta opened her eyes, and in a fiery panic the servant slam-dunked her into the water. In a few seconds the ice melted and Entrapta climbed out spewing additional eye flames.

The problem seemed insoluble.

* * *

"Oh no, do you still have killer eye flames?" Meanie Catra said.

"Please wait your turn, Meanie Catra," Entrapta said.

"Oh, come the hell on. What kind of suspense is there? We know you get the fire kicked out of you somehow, so just skip to the end so that--"

Scorpia stung her and Meanie Catra fell silent. "Hey there, buddy," Scorpia said. "I'm really on pins and needles waitin' to see how you figured out the eye fire business! What happened next?"

"Thanks," Entrapta said. "Well, the next thing that happened was..."

* * *

Entrapta, age 8, firewept out a window, sending flaming liquid spattering down the side of her castle.

"Ohhh man!" she said. "I'm never gonna have friends now! I can't even read how-to books if I light everything on fire when I look at them! This is literally the worst possible thing that could ever ha--"

A large dart was suddenly sticking out of her neck. Glowing green liquid pumped into her veins, not that she knew it at the time. She blinked, and the fire stopped spewing out of her eyes. "Huh," she said. "That's..."

She pulled the needle out of her neck so she could breathe, which turned out to be a really terrible idea.

* * *

"So, it turns out," Entrapta said, "my dad left a single vial of mutagen designed to 'reroll' talents. On account of my grandpa was full of spiders, my great-grandma turned into a beetle after having my grandma... et cetera... so dad brewed it up just in case I needed the help. And then he exploded... I think. I could never get a straight answer how he and mom died."

"That's real magical, Entrapta," Scorpia said. "Your dad's last gift gave you a new lease on life and those really cool hair arms!"

"Trichokinesis," Entrapta said, pointing at Scorpia. "I didn't realize I had it 'til my ninth birthday party, though, 'cause I had a pixie cut going at age 8! But anyway, that's another story."

"It is your birthday," Hordak said.

"--is it?" Entrapta said. She consulted her tidal motion chart. "Wait. When was I sent here? Tide cycle... 22... maybe... it's potentially my birthday! Like, give it 40% odds! Ish!"

"Well, hey!" Scorpia said. "You're alive, and it's probably your birthday! It's time to celebrate!"

"Hell yeah!" Entrapta said.

"The finest reward," Hordak said, "[would be to lie down and go to sleep.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZVOade1zmU)"

"I agree," Scorpia said. "You should lie down and go to sleep."

"Well," Entrapta said, "I am pretty tired, and... wait."

"Go ahead, sleep," Scorpia said, lying down. "Close your eyes. Don't open them. It will be alright."

"It will all be alright," Hordak said, lying down. "You will be in the place where there is no more pain and struggle. It will be alright."

"It'll be alright," Scorpia said.

"It'll be alright," Hordak said.

"Get the _fuck_ out of here and don't stop running," Meanie Catra said.

With a roar of determination that sounded, truth be told, more like a yelp of terror, Entrapta ran for the entrance and hopped into Appletini. "Drive, girl!" Entrapta said, and Appletini did.

"Today," Entrapta said, "we're gonna hunt down a birthday present. And that present is gonna be a new sleepin' cave."

* * *

The paintings Entrapta made would never fade; they would be part of Beast Island so long as Beast Island lived.


	6. The Light That Never Warms

_His reasons tend to fly away_   
_Like lesser birds on the four winds, yeah_

\--Blue Oyster Cult, "Astronomy"

* * *

It had been an unremarkable evening at the Motorball track. Mermista had taken on the three-man team of challengers and killed every last one of them, one at a time, in three clean strokes, for that was the fashion of Empress Mermista. She drank in the adulation of the crowd, the reverie, the worship; and as she returned to her private locker room she collapsed, seized by vertigo.

She lay there for long minutes before control returned. She silently exchanged her racing body for her civilian model and waited out the crowds before returning home. She was trapped in the arena for hours past the final match. She would gladly power through the crowds, her admirers and devotees and the fools who thought they could battle her if she were outside her _wettzeug_. No, they could not... but she wouldn't dare risk another episode.

Mermista slinked through the dark streets, past junkies, past homeless curled up in obscure corners, clutching steel pipes or dull knives in sleep; through the chill air beneath the Crystal Castle hanging in the air overhead. Brightmoon, a city born from the cast-off junk of a world the people below could scarcely conceive of; a sleepwalking city in the grip of an endless nightmare.

She passed one of her own posters emblazoned on the wall of a gambling house. Mermista, her helmet doffed, casting her imperious scowl on all passers-by. THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE! she was saying.

Damn right, she thought.

She reached her home, moving to unlock it. She pressed her palm to the reader. A yellow light flicked on.

Unlocked? Already?

Her other arm unfolded, a pile driver's spike peeking out. She held her breath, opened the door, and stepped into her living room.

Perfuma was asleep on the couch. Her long blonde hair obscured her face; even so she could see a little smile painted on her face. She twitched faintly in her sleep. Seated next to her on the couch was [Entrapta](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0t_wb0lUW0). She was eating something on a little plate.

"Entrapta," Mermista snarled. "I told you..."

"Yeah, yeah," Entrapta said. "Hey, you know what you didn't tell me? That you had a blonde girl in your house. Blonde girls have been a big problem in my life recently, I'd have appreciated the warning."

"Did you do anything to her?" Mermista said, raising her pile driver at Entrapta.

Entrapta waved her off with a spoon. "What? Nah. She was asleep when I showed up. You're like, super tense, did you realize?"

"No, I've been feeling really effervecent and chipper. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Delivering you some news." Entrapta dug her spoon along her plate and licked up the yellow and dark brown smears she'd caught there. "You might want to sit down, 'cause it's kind of messed up."

Mermista considered ending this in one decisive strike, to get the woman out of her life before she could betray what little trust Mermista still had in her, and decided against it. Better to get some information first. "Explain."

Entrapta said, "Alright. First things first, here's a little metaphor for you." She pat a small metal box on the couch next to her; Mermista hadn't noticed it before. It hummed faintly, and a large insignia of a P lit up on the front. A little hatch opened and a tiny yellow pudding, draped with dark caramel, lifted out of the box on another little plate with a spoon resting across it. Entrapta plucked the new plate out and shoved the old one and its spoon into the box; with a soft, choking, grinding noise, the objects descended into the box, the lid closing behind them.

She held out the plate. "This is flan," she said. "It's the most perfect dessert ever made. It's soft, it's squishy, like a human brain. It's served cold. It has a delicate, but definite taste, and it's got that fun little caramel sauce--it adds a new texture, it adds a complimentary taste. Some places, I fool you not, they'll dribble some chocolate sauce on it, or spray it with whipped cream--it's cute, really. And the best part, as you can see? You can make it tiny and it's not hard to do!"

"Get to the point," Mermista said.

"Well," Entrapta said. "Remember when I said that it's got the texture of a brain?" She dug her spoon into the flan; it made a gentle crackling sound. She pried it apart, revealing a network of carbon nanotubes running through the pudding. "Lookie here. Remember when I put these in your nervous system?"

Mermista nodded curtly.

"Yeah. They worked like a charm, didn't they?"

"...yes, they did."

She had been falling behind in Motorball. Years of unquestioned dominance, and she was getting slow. She'd upgraded her body again and again, pushing the legal performing limits of her _wettzeug_. She'd revisited her master to reacquaint herself with training. She had been tempted, briefly, to just do drugs, the hell with terminal frost. But in the end it was the scientist who had come to her, speaking of karma, and how this was surely the karma of Mermista, the logical point of the entirety of her life.

She had been indominable ever since. Her body responded to her commands faster than her opponents' brains could command their bodies; what other advantage did she need? And there was nothing in the regulations about brain enhancement. No rules to hold her back from a lateral enhancement.

"Well!" Entrapta said. "As you'll recall, your enhancements work by turning your nerves into superconductors. As I've had a chance to experiment further with the upgrades, I've found out something very interesting. Watch..."

She tapped the top of the flan, both halves. The carbon tubes began to light up.

"It was something that slipped my mind. Up in the Crystal Castle, things are a little different, and it's easy to forget a few minor details... like the conductivity of the brain. And what happens when you run enough energy through it at a high enough valence a long enough time."

She tapped the pudding again, and again, and again, and the glow grew brighter, and black smoke curled up from the dessert. Cracks formed; the caramel jelly fell apart into strings and then smoldered and bubbled in a puddle of shredded candy.

Mermista considered the gruesome sight.

"It's not going to happen all at once, of course," Entrapta said. "But you've been racing, what, every third day? Weekly, at the least? And that's just what you do officially. I'm guessing you don't limit how fast your reactions are, do you? Every time you showed off for a fan, or for this chick right here..." She poked Perfuma in the cheek with her spoon. No reaction, though Mermista desperately counted the seconds until she was done, the better to kill her for threatening her lover.

Entrapta giggled. "Look, I know you don't want me here. You're afraid I'm going to blab and take all your winnings away from you, right?"

"Something like that. Or I think you're going to hurt the most important woman in my life."

"Well, good news," Entrapta said, cramming the burnt flan and plate and spoon into the box. "I don't want to hurt her. And I don't want to tell on you. How boring would that be, huh? Just, 'hey, look at what Mermista did! Better put a bounty on her!' No, that's not interesting at all, even if it would be a fitting act of karma..."

"Do you have a cure? A treatment?" Mermista said.

"Mermista," Entrapta said, "you've been running your brain on hot for a few years now. I could take the tubes out, and that might give you another few years. Without the tubes pushing you past the limit, and with all the damage you've done to yourself already, life'll be like swimming through a big ol' lake'a flan. So you'll definitely be out of Motorball, you know, possibly in disgrace if anybody asks why you suddenly started being terrible after years of being better than ever."

"...a treatment, then...?"

"I've got all kinds of drugs I can give you, if you wanna forget about how your brain is going to give out on you. Alzheimer's, Tourette's, good old schizophrenia when all the right channels go rotten. Perfuma here looks like a nice girl. I bet she'll take care of you when you can't stand up straight, can't even keep your head screwed in..."

Mermista had now settled into a seat on the ground.

"What..." she said. "What are the effects... if I keep the tubes in?"

Entrapta giggled. "Well. Good news and bad news. Bad news first, right?"

Mermista nodded.

"Let me guess; you've been having bursts of nausea, vertigo, maybe some really bad dreams about falling apart or being full of bugs..."

Mermista nodded, more hesitantly now.

"Oooh boy. You have about three months left to live if you don't take too many risks. One month if you keep up your usual Motorball schedule. Sooner than later you'll be able to taste your brain dying. I'm told it's a sensation like crumbling..."

"...God..." Mermista cradled her head.

"Oh, oh, but I haven't gotten to the good news!" Entrapta said. She stood up, crept to Mermista, and knelt, lifting her chin up with one finger. "Your brain is conducting harder and faster than ever before. It's affected the performance of your neurons. Your neuroglia's coming loose...

"Long story short. When I inserted those tubes, I increased your reaction time by five-fold. Now? Your reaction times will be reaching twenty-fold. Maybe more."

She patted Mermista on the cheek.

"Until you die, you'll be invincible." She looked back over her shoulder at Perfuma, still asleep. "Not a bad prospect, right? You're pretty brave. You like to live life dangerously. I think you'll do a good job with this information I've given you."

"...and there's no cure..."

"Why would you want one? You'd just be you again. Why be you when you can be something better?"

Entrapta stood, retireved her P box, and went for the door.

"One month?" Mermista said.

"At the least," Entrapta said. "But if you believe in yourself... well, once I leave, your future is firmly in the hands of karma. Maybe you've earned a little more future."

"...more than I deserve?"

Entrapta scoffed. "Karma is the final word on that. If you defeat my expectations, then karma must truly have something special in mind for you. What's that old saying? 'Death certain, hour uncertain.'" She yawned. "Karma is a wheel. You can roll with it... or you can be crushed."

She left.

And Mermista thought of the cyborg rapidly rising through the ranks of Motorball, aiming at the top.

Glimmer... the one called the Battle Angel.

Three months, if she cut back on her matches. Three months... that would be more than enough time for Glimmer to build up enough points, enough reputation, to challenge Mermista.

Yes, she thought.

I will kill Glimmer, and I will die more than a legend.

I will die a god.

And it will be a death to make Perfuma proud.

* * *

_Call me Desty Nova_

_"Eternal Light"_

_\--_ Ibid.


End file.
